


Keep It Together

by audiaphilios



Series: From Tumblr With Lo-- [31]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: (Seven-ish Years), Age Difference, Dom/sub Undertones, Everyone Hates SMH, Juuuuust barely there at the end, M/M, Rare Pairings, Saltmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-18 23:33:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9407702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/audiaphilios/pseuds/audiaphilios
Summary: ”So, you must be one of the Samwell kids, yeah?”Whiskey can only slant his eyes sideways at the blond and lift his eyebrow. He hopes it comes across as “Oh is that obvious?” and not “Oh god I’m honestly incapable of speech right now.”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wildlyfuriousdragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildlyfuriousdragon/gifts).



> wildlyfuriousdragon asked:  
> Okay.....hear me out. .......My new favorite rare-pair is Kent/Whiskey.
> 
> My response:  
> OH GOD HOW FUCKING PERFECT WOULD THEY BE WITH THEIR DISAFFECTED AIR AND UTTER DISREGARD FOR SMH.
> 
> [Originally posted to tumblr August 20, 2016.](http://audiaphilios.tumblr.com/post/149200825600/okayhear-me-out-my-new-favorite)

I mean, of course, Whiskey’s just barely brave enough to ask Jack Zimmermann for an autograph-- look, he seemed chill as fuck with his “Yo, Tony, I told you I’d get him to sign it” but that’s because he’d been so afraid that his bluster would fail him. That same streak of “must stay in control, must prove myself to be one with the cucumber” (and he thanks god no one can read minds every time he thinks that, but it’s  _his_ mantra and it  _works_ ) is what gets him through the SMH trip to see Jack Zimmermann play the Aces in Providence. He normally tries to avoid non-roadie excursions with the team, but he turned 19 last weekend and this trip’s actually getting paid for by the school, since there’s some kind of event afterwards. Hall and Murphy sold it as a “career night” for hockey players.

_/_X_\\_

Holster and Ransom had been so full of stories about “Parse” and how cool he was at last year's Epikegster, and even Lardo had given the eyebrow-and-chin-lift of agreement, so he knows he’s got to be on his game in case they legitimately encounter the greatest living hockey player. Whiskey can handle this.

And of course, SMH is  _so fucking embarrassing_  when the post-game meet and greet includes both Falcs and Aces. Ransom’s honestly losing his shit over Tater Mashkov (although the Russian seems equally invested in learning the multi-step “handshake” Ransom and Holster are trying to teach him), and he can see Nursey of all people declaiming to Thirdy, and Lardo’s chill is wobbling as she converses with-- who is that woman anyway, someone in Falcs management? Tango seems to be in deep conversation-- or at least interrogation-- with Swoops, and Kent Parson’s...  _oh shit Kent Parson is standing next to him._

”So, you must be one of the Samwell kids, yeah?”

Whiskey can only slant his eyes sideways at the blond and lift his eyebrow. He hopes it comes across as “Oh is that obvious?” and not “Oh god I’m honestly incapable of speech right now.”

Kent Parson smirks--  _at him, Kent Parson is smirking at_ him!-- and shrugs a shoulder. 

“Got a name, kid?”

“Whiskey.”

“I’d ask if that was a name or a drink order, but I’m pretty sure you’re too young to drink.”

Whiskey’s eyes cut across the room, taking in the spectacle his teammates are making of themselves.

“Well, I’m too old for this shit.”

Kent Parson laughs-- loud, bright, and clearly unexpectedly, because it’s kind of an unattractive laugh for all that, which only somehow tips the whole mess back into charming and therefore incredibly attractive. And Whiskey just made him make that sound.

“Alright then, Whiskey. I’m gonna go grab a bite somewhere that doesn’t resemble a zoo, wanna come with?”

And  _fuck yes_  Whiskey does, even if he’s certain this is going to be the most challenging night of his life. So he inclines his head towards the door, and they head out of the event room and into the hall.

“You’re not a man of a many words, huh?” Parson asks as they duck out of the stadium and approach a tiny, gorgeous sports car. Whiskey meets his eye and tightens the corner of his lip, a bit, not a smile but close enough for now. They settle into the car, folding their similar frames in with similar grace. Parson grins at him once the doors are closed.

“Buckle up, now. You got a curfew?” 

He tilts his head, because  _oh fuck_ , Whiskey had entirely forgotten about that, for  _Christ’s sake_ he’s supposed to be with the team, but like hell he’d pass up the chance to hang out one-on-one with Kent fucking Parson, away from the soul-crushing “humor” of his team. So he raises a shoulder, says, “Worth it,” and they tear off out of the parking lot.

_/_X_\\_

Three hours later he’s grateful  _as fuck_ that he sent Tango a text on the drive to the diner they started out at, because somewhere between asking his friend to cover for him and now he’s managed to find himself pressed against the wall of a much nicer hotel room than he’d had in store, blond hair tangled between his fingers as Kent licks curses against his neck.

“I fucking  _know_  you, you’re not laid-back at all, I can  _smell_ the energy you’re holding back.”

Whiskey is, in fact, losing his grip on his tongue and maybe his mind. He moans, a sound far too breathy to be believed.

Kent licks a path up to his ear, nips sharply on the lobe, whispers low and dark into the sensitive curve, “I’m going to unravel you.”

“Fuck,” Whiskey swears, harsh and real. He tightens his hands in Kent’s hair, uses the moment when Kent’s eyes roll back happily to grind their hips together and then twist, changing their positions and pressing the older man to the wall. “You first,” he says, and the kiss that follows is messy, wet, and hot. But not as hot as the way Kent melts into his body, and Whiskey’s in his element. 

There’s more than one way to stay in control, after all.

 


End file.
